


Left to Be Said

by Shrompheavennow



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Body Worship, Cussing, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Weight Gain, boys being soft, fucking buff marvin, nonsexual weight gain, unadulterated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrompheavennow/pseuds/Shrompheavennow
Summary: It's been two years since Marvin and Whizzer have seen each other.Things have changed for the better.(REPOST)





	Left to Be Said

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago and posted it on here under the title "Besitos" and deleted it shortly after. It's back and ready to party.

Two years was, apparently, a lot of time for a person to find himself. Marvin knew this was entirely true. He mellowed. He went to a “real” therapist for his aggression. He made up with Trina and Mendel and Jason. He made friends. He felt almost human.  
But there was still an emptiness left in him when he broke up with Whizzer. He couldn’t fill it. Not with therapy, not with friends, not with food. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t smile like he used to. There was something very obviously missing from his life, and it happened to be Whizzer. 

Two years is a long time to try to find ways to cope.  
Stress eating was his favorite, if not detrimental. He had always been good at eating his emotions, but damn, the breakup fucked him over. It started innocently enough. A pudding cup when he got nostalgic. A spoonful of peanut butter when he got lonely. A bag of chips when was horny. Simple things. Then he would eat an entire carton of ice cream in one sitting while watching Whizzer’s favorite chic-flic. It wasn’t terrible, but his thighs and ass were noticeably bigger and his stomach was much softer than he wanted it to be. The neighbors didn’t help, either. He was Cordelia’s lab rat when it came to new recipes. He went from taking nibbles from her dishes to eating the entire thing. He’d pity himself and his newly adorned accouterments for a while, think about how Whizzer would probably make fun of him for it all, and then cry into his pizza that he didn’t remember ordering. It was an unforgiving cycle.  
He wasn’t comfortable with it, either. Marvin had never been ‘big,’- and he still wasn’t, just maybe a little chubbier than the average person- but he was in denial of his “dad bod,” as Mendel called it. What he especially didn’t like about it were the stretch marks, which line his ass and thighs and belly like tattoos. He’d hook up with guys from the bar down the block and keep his shirt on while they fucked. Twinks seemed to be very into it though, and he earned some not-so-appreciated pet names from his suitors.  
After one particularly bad meltdown and a dozen donuts, he joined a gym. He hired a trainer. He worked out four days out of the week. He ate healthier. He drank things besides soda and beer. He saw noticeable definition in his arms and legs, his ass rounded and firmed, for once, he was proud of his work. The only issue was the gut. The stretch marks were still there. The softness was still there. There was hard muscle under there if you could get through all the pudge. He had the arms of an athlete and the belly of, well, a father. His ass gets slapped at the bar by various men, welcome or not. He pins them against bathroom stalls with his arms rippling and they melt underneath him. He flexes and boys come for him.  
He decides it’s not as fun as teasing Whizzer until he moans his name. 

He still eats like a pig at home. He devours Cordelia’s casseroles and cakes and pastries. He eats until he swears there are new stretch marks. Then, he wakes up the next morning and deadlifts as much he can at the gym. He squats until he can’t feel his legs. The gut never goes away. He could probably crush a man with his thighs, but it works better as a pillow for Jason. He’s no hulk, but he knows he’s strong. He’s proud of his work, but he still flinches when Jason lays his head on him or Cordelia pats it jokingly when they all have dinner together. He wears sweaters and jackets and oversized shirts. He buys new pants when he needs to. He copes. He works through it.

He goes to Jason’s first baseball game of the season. He wears a thick sweater and tells himself to head to the gym after. He bitches about the heat and his dislike for the sport.  
He’s quiet when Whizzer shows up. He sucks in his stomach and flirts his way through the conversation.  
Whizzer looks good. He looks different. He’s thinner. He looks tired. But god, he’s hot. Marvin has him sit in front of him. He keeps himself from running his hands through the younger man’s hair.  
Whizzer hugs him when he leaves. Whizzer isn’t a hugger.  
It takes a week for Marvin to call Whizzer for a night out. They eat at an Italian restaurant. Whizzer eats a salad. Marvin scarfs down a bowl of spaghetti. Whizzer cocks his head and grins devilishly when Marvin asks for more parmesan.  
They rush home. Whizzer squeals like a child when Marvin sweeps him off his feet, bridal style, something he couldn’t do two years ago. He shoves him onto the bed and swings himself over the taller man, straddling himself over his pelvis. Whizzer is growling and grinding under him in excitement. He strips his shirt off to reveal his flat stomach that’s already collecting sweat from the anticipation. He goes for Marvin’s hem. He stops him. Marvin recoils and Whizzer is visibly taken back. The younger man pulls himself out from under Marvin and sits his back against the headboard of the bed. Marvin sits on his feet. He looks like a ghost, as if Whizzer has offended him. He stretches out a hand and Marvin takes it hesitantly.  
“Marvin.”  
“Whizzer.” It’s stiff and forced. He doesn’t want to talk about it.  
“Marvin, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t care. I’m horny and I’ve missed you and I desperately need someone to fuck me. You, specifically.” The older man laughs at his bluntness.  
“So take your shirt off and fuck me until I scream. Sound good?”  
Marvin stares down at his lap for a moment before slowly taking his shirt off. He tries to wrap his arms around his stomach, desperately trying to cover the stretch marks with his hands.  
“Oh my god, Marv, is this what you were so worried about?” Whizzer whines.  
“I thought you’d make fun of me or something!” Marvin exclaims, still covering himself. Whizzer grabs his hands before he tenses up and exposes his stomach in all its glory.  
“Marvin!” He yells in a very Whizzer-esque whine. “This is the last fucking thing I would make fun of your for! I love it!” He pleads. He moves his hands down Marvin’s muscled arms and towards his stomach.  
“This, this is precious,” he squeezes one of his love handles just a little before Marvin swats him away.  
“See? This is what I meant! You’re just gonna tease me for it!” He covers himself back up again before Whizzer groans and grabs his hands back.  
“Marvin quit. That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He pulls Marvin a little closer to him. “We don’t have to screw. I’m gonna cuddle your dumbass, and you’re gonna get over this.” He pulls Marvin into a hug before twisting him down onto the bed to lay down. Marvin squirms but obeys and lays down. He’s facing Whizzer as his fingertips trace each mark. Marvin giggles a little and covers his face.  
“That tickles, quit.” He places his own hand on Whizzer’s chest. Whizzer curls closer to Marvin’s abdomen and presses his face against Marvin’s soft midsection.  
“What the fuck, Whizzer.” He runs his hands through the taller man’s hair as he starts pressing kisses into the stretch marks.  
“I like them. I do, I really do.” He laughs between little kisses. “I would never tell any guy I ever hook up with this, but I’ve definitely got a thing for this.”  
“You wouldn’t tell anyone because it’s embarrassing.” He recoils back again. Whizzer pulls him back closer.  
“No, because it’s domestic. It’s soft and domestic and I don’t like guys I hook up to think I’m willing to stick around.” He wraps his arms around Marvin’s waist and presses his cheek against the soft part under his bellybutton.  
“Then why bother hooking up with me?” Marvin stiffens. “Why should I waste my time?” He snarls.  
“Maybe I’m not leaving this time.”  
It’s quiet between the two men. Marvin reaches over to pull the string on his bedside lamp and turns the light on.  
“That one's my favorite.” He mumbles suddenly, pointing to a lightning bolt shaped stretch mark towards his left hip. Whizzer presses a smooch into that one, too.  
“That one is a good one.” He agrees. Marvin hums to himself, slowly relaxing into Whizzer’s affections.  
“They’re like little tree roots,” Whizzer whispers, running his thumbs over them. “Also, oh my god, can we talk about these muscles going on? Who are you, gay jesus?” He exclaimed, suddenly moving one hand to Marvin’s arms and thighs. “Crush me with your fucking thighs, Hercules!” He cries sarcastically. Marvin laughs hysterically.  
“I like that part, too. I worked hard on that.” He says, easing up a little more. Whizzer sneaks a raspberry into Marvin’s belly button and earns a shriek from the other man.  
“What the fuck?” He laughs, swatting him away again.  
“It’s so much easier now! Look at this raspberry-ing material!” He grabs at a handful of flesh and jiggles it. Marvin pries his hands off again.  
“Okay, and there it is again. You’re making fun of it.” He protests. Whizzer rolls his eyes and hugs his midsection again.  
“I don’t mean to make fun of it. I’m appreciating it.” Emphasis on ‘appreciating’ from Whizzer. “Does Jason love it? Does he use it as a pillow?”  
Marvin sighed. “How’d you guess?”  
“Kids like bellies. I like bellies. They’re soft and comforting. If I have a shitty day, I’d choose a belly to snuggle up to over a bottle of booze any day.” He makes a little face out of pinching a bit of belly and makes it talk, smirking at his accomplishment.  
Marvin snaps. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get rid of it. It can’t be healthy.” Whizzer looks vaguely concerned.  
“Have you asked Charlotte about it? She’s a doctor, right?” He asks. He’s only known the girls for a week or two.  
“She says I’m perfectly healthy, but I’m positive she’s saying it to make me feel better.”  
“Why doubt her? You look healthy to me. Hell, you carried me up the stairs without breaking a sweat.” He’s tracing little stars and hearts into his stomach.  
“It’s obscene.” He moans.  
“Okay, Marvin I swear to god, I will scream if you try to be a pessimistic little bitch about this one more time. Say something positive.” Whizzer begs.  
It’s quiet again for a moment. Whizzer huffs and Marvin scraps up something half-true.  
“I can kinda use it for a shelf for my beer. It’s not actually that big, but if I’ve just eaten and I hold my breath, I can balance it on there while I'm sitting on the couch.”  
“See? Built-in table.” He cradles Marvin’s love handles before squirming back up to eye level with the older man.  
“Jason and I don’t fight as much. If he’s grumpy and had a bad day, he comes straight to the couch and falls asleep on me. Which is like, the most physical contact I’ve ever had with the kid.”  
Marvin pulls Whizzer up close to him, their fronts pressing against each other.  
“Anything else?” Whizzer asks, now rubbing a thumb over Marvin’s cheek.  
“You like it.”  
“I do.” He smiles and presses a sincere kiss into Marvin’s lips, humming into his mouth. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning. I promise.” He nestles himself into Marvin as the other man turns the light off. For the first time in two years, Marvin sleeps through the whole night.


End file.
